Wednesday, June 11, 2008

This is a tale of the inevitable problems that stem from my addictive tendencies.

Recently I picked up one of the most fascinating games to never have a plot: Harvest Moon. And it's taken over my spare time. To briefly surmise, you play as Jack (or Insert Name Here, whatever else you want to name him), who suddenly inherits a farm from a dearly departed friend. The job description of "owner" is not descriptive as to how you run your farm; it only requires that you do.

It's easy for me to get addicted to things like this. There's no plot to the game, unless you count the cut-scene drama of vying for the attention of one of the pretty young girls in the town with your "rival" for her heart. You make this little man work day in and day out for his living. Perhaps it's this vicarious experience that makes the game so fascinating.

So where does this leave Player One? Jack's out living his life, running hither and yon armed with a watering can, a sickle, and a fridge full of turnips. Player One is sitting in front of the TV surrounded by empty soda cans and, if he's been playing long enough, a couple of cobwebs.

Somewhere between taking care of the chickens and harvesting crops of cucumbers, I realized that a game covertly teaching me responsibility on a virtual farm was overtly causing me to shirk my chores in my actual life.

(As a point of interest, are there any other Trekkies familiar with the Next Generation episode The Game? Because the similarities are rather alarming... except that no one has deactivated my fridge in an attempt to take over my house.)

I think the Gamecube is going on the shelf for a little while... just until I stop having dreams about planting crops of potatoes in my backyard.